The Fable of the Black Cat and the Brand-Spanking New 32” LED/LCD HD Television.

Once upon a time, in a fiefdom far away, there live a domesticated housecat known as the Black Cat. The Black Cat had always been raised as a domesticated housecat and actually possessed some domesticated housecat-like traits, but deep down he had the soul of a water buffalo.

One day in the Fiefdom of the Black Cat, as the Black Cat chose to call the fiefdom in which he abided, a great event occurred. A Brand-Spanking New 32” LED/LCD HD Television entered the humble acreage. The Black Cat’s two idiotic man-servants spent the entire morning disconnecting the stupid old television, attaching the Brand-Spanking New 32” LED/LCD HD Television and praying to the TV reception gods that they might be blessed with channels. The Black Cat was bored. The Black Cat forgot for a moment that he had the soul of a water buffalo. The Black Cat jumped toward the loft. The Black Cat missed. The Black Cat fell. The Black Cat fell onto the Brand-Spanking New 32” LED/LCD HD Television. Terror reigned.

But, by some amazing grace, everyone survived.



The two idiotic man-servants do ask that you join them in praying to the TV reception gods that might be blessed with channels.

[This fable as been formatted to fit your screen and the original text has been edited to avoid pissing off the Black Cat.}

Dear Trudy and Beth,

In honor of your [insert really large ordinal number here]birthday, I was going to give you guys one of those sweet cakes with a male stripper who jumps out and fulfills your wildest fantasies.

But I didn't.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ANYWAY!

The pitiful state of the news industry.

I saw the headlines for two news articles recently that piqued my interest; not enough to actually read the articles, but enough to make me feel perfectly qualified to discuss the theories in hoary details

First: sleeping with pets has major health risks. Well, duh! Your 200 pound puppy jumps into bed, landing squarely on your chest; it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to deduce that your health could be threatened. Or when your beloved kitten has a nightmare; you just know there is going to be claws involved. Kitty claws = blood and gore. I’m sure that every emergency room employee across the county has a number of gruesome stories involving people being massacred by their beloved felines during a bad dream sequence. I don’t get it. Why in the name of all that is sanctimonious would a news agency deem this to be worth publishing? Is it really that slow of a news day?

The second article looked more like a survey: “If you had to select between your pet and your spouse, who’s getting the boot?” Oh come on folks, even PETA’s staunchest opponents know (and concur with) the answer to this one. Who is sent packing? Is it the jackass who nags you mercilessly for leaving your socks on the floor or is it the sweet, totally adorable little fluff of fur that curls up on your lap and purrs contently, bringing you countless minutes of peace and joy? Are you going to eject the lout who doesn’t even bother to laugh at your totally hysterical jokes or the sweet puppy who follows your every thought and movement with total adoration? Are you going to tell the miserable sob who doesn’t even thank you for sweeping the floor once a month (whether it needs it or not) to take a hike, or are you going to tell the absolutely endearing creature who makes you feel special and loved to get the hell out? I mean really. Is there any real point in asking such an inane question? Quite obviously, news agencies are running out of ideas.

I had this totally awesome idea at work today.

It was really good. I mean really, really good. I just wish I could remember what it was.

From Stephan Pastis - Pearls Before Swine

Hmmm... somebody's birthday is coming up soon.

Post # 500.

Last night’s Chamber of Commerce celebration had a “Disco” theme.

I heard more than one snot-nosed, pre-pubescent punk who happens to own a well established, successful business in town say, “I’m too young to know what disco was really like. Can you tell me, Mac?”

Next one is getting slapped. Hard.

Recovery. Slow.

I am slowly moving out of the abyss of utter depression. I no longer contemplate hurtling myself in front of a speeding semi. (Not to worry, part of the thought process included the stark realization that I would have to toddle all the way up to the highway to find a fast moving truck: way more work than I deemed appropriate, under the circumstances.) I have discontinued the ritual of crying myself to sleep. I can finally view a feathered creature without emitting a wretched howl of pain. Life is returning to normal.

And there is only 229 days, 9 hours and 14 minutes until the 2011 season begins.

Dark Day

The Sun Rises

On the most important day in the history of the State of Oregon.

GO DUCKS!!!

Too [Expletive Deleted] Many Hours:

Quitting smoking can truly change your outlook on life. Ten days ago, I was a moderately laid-back sort of dude with generally convivial view of the world. I enjoyed life and laughter. But now I am a crotchety old man, bitter and vindictive at the malevolent universe. I spend my days scheming up ways to torment the ill-fated people who’s life course has the misfortune of crossing mine. What is it they say? Misery loves company?





But enough about me and my day, how are you?

An old friend is closing.

On January 14th, 1927, the University of Oregon Ducks beat Willamette University, 38-10, in the first basketball game ever to be played at McArthur Court. On Saturday, January 8th, 2011, the UO women’s basketball team will officially close Mac Court, hosting the Huckin’ Fuskies in the final Duck game to be played in the revered arena. Mac Court is the second oldest on-campus arena still in use; still in use for 3 more days.

Is nothing sacred?

129 Hours, 15 Minutes

There are very few perks to quitting smoking.

But one often overlooked bonus, you can get away with the occasional rude comment and just brush it off by saying that you’ve given up cigarettes. I’m sure you can all imagine the hypothetical dialogue.

“My god, Phoebe, you are wearing what is indubitably the ugliest dress I have ever seen in my entire life.” That comment would be followed by an awkward silence, and finally by, “I can’t believe I just said that out loud. Please forgive me, Phoebe. I’m trying to quit smoking. I’m sure I’ve seen an uglier dress at some point during my long, arduous life.” Phoebe, being the kind person she is, would forgive and forget. (Actually, Phoebe is not that genuinely good. She would try to forgive and forget, but the cutting cruelty of the comment would set in her heart, festering and smoldering until one day, many moons from now, you will read about Phoebe taking a sawed-off shotgun to the mall and mowing down hundreds of people during a holiday shopping frenzy. You would also read that she was impeccably dressed, leading you to conclude that your despicable comment had a true benefit. So, extrapolating that somewhat fuzzy theory, you will deduce that although quitting smoking makes the world a more dangerous place, it also makes it infinitely more fashionable)

As soon as I can think of any other advantages, I'll let you know.

And One For My Sisters!

Thanks, Lola.

See Jane, there are reasons some of us don't own tiaras!

81 Hours

But who's counting?

36 Hours.

And I am able to report, in all honesty, there are still no corpses to deal with. Seems damn near anyone can outrun me these days.

Besides, the Crank-O-Meter is only at 60.

Happy 2011

The New Year has clambered into our little corner of the world with some notably Minnesota-esque attributes. It is cold. I admit not Frostbite Falls cold, but Upper Valley cold. It is dry. And we have snow on the ground. It’s not the normal snow of the Cascades: the heavy, water-laden snow that hits the ground with an audible thud and just sets there until some poor sap with a snow shovel comes along and forcibly moves it to a theoretically better location. No, this is the light fluffy stuff that is destined to make powder buffs ecstatic and uses the wind to create an ever changing landscape.

It was in such a wintery scene that 2010 came to a close. Richard and I spent New Year’s Eve day on a mad shopping excursion to Portland. I haven’t had so much fun since my root canal. I love to shop!

Oh, and before I forget to tell you, once again I have quit smoking. Let me rephrase that. I have given up cigarettes. I am still smoking hot! (Okay, I thought everyone could use a little humor, but you – second row, far right hand side – stop laughing! It wasn’t that funny.) I’m proud to say that it has already been 14 hours and there are no dead bodies to be disposed of in an cladestine manner. I’m saying that 2011 has been a rousing success, so far!